Eleanora E. Tate

Notes from the Paw of
Shaka Zulu Shake-a-Leg
OOOOOO where am I? HOWWWWWLLLLLL.
Ouch! Yikes! Where's my right front paw? They cut it off! No, wait, it's under all this sticky grey stuff wrapped around my paw under this sock thing.
Oh geez. All right, my eyes are clearing up. I remember now. I was about to flop down at Old Gal's computer a while back and begin my first column when this possum scent hit me reaally hard, wafting into the window from the barn.
I galloped out the kitchen door and down the steps to the barn door. I woulda torn the door to pieces but Ole Gal held me back while Ole Guy got it open. Man, I flew in, with possum smell everywhere,
"C'mon outta here, Beady Eyes, trespassing on my property! Kick your tail!" I was bouncing to the left and to the right, snapping and growling, but I couldn't get to the varmint. He was under the floor boards.
While Ole Guy tore up the floor boards Ole Gal stood by with her hoe. You gotta watch Ole Gal when she's got that hoe. She can cut a hole in the ground faster than I can dig one.
Anyway, as soon as Ole Guy pulled up the floor boards I shot right to that possum, snatched him up, ran outside and flung that dude up in the air. The possum, not Ole Guy.
Possum hit the ground kind of hard. It didn't move. It had a heart attack and died.
That's when I noticed that I'd torn my upper claw clear out of my foot. Ole Guy and Ole Gal noticed, too. Ole Guy grabbed me up and took me somewhere that smelled like hamster poop.
Next thing I know, here I am, waking up with a big bandage around my paw and this dumb bottle ring around my neck. I can't lick! What'll I do? I can't write my column the way I want to, either.
Oh no. Here comes Ole Gal with a pill. I went to Dog Obedience School, so I know things, see. She's gonna stick this pill in my mouth and I'm gonna spit it out. She's gonna stick it back in and I'm gonna spit it out. Well, this is gonna take a while.
I'll be back.
Shake-a-Leg
(Copyright 2008)